


Pray for You

by fancy_a_chat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2014, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancy_a_chat/pseuds/fancy_a_chat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know what I do every morning?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pray for You

The sun was setting already. Cas, who was with-it enough to know this meant winter was approaching, chewed thoroughly on an over-cooked piece of meat. Dinners would get annoying once it got cold. He kept his eyes on the horizon, watching the sky go from a dusty pink, to a deep orange, until finally the only light was that of the torches hanging around the long picnic tables and benches. Cas looked around, noticing only then that the tables were empty. Even Chuck, who was the slowest eater in the camp, had finished already. Cas thought he had overheard one of the girls talking about meeting him after dinner. At the very end of his table, much to his surprise, was Dean, who seemed to be sketching on a map. His food had long since been discarded, a nice looking chunk of bread sitting on the side of his plate. After a few minutes, Cas took his beer bottle and slid down the length of the bench to be across from Dean. Without hesitation, he snatched the piece of bread and stuffed half of it into his mouth. Upon seeing Cas, Dean glanced up, his stare stiff and expressionless.

Silence passed for several minutes.

"What happened to you, Dean?" Cas asked, his mouth half full.

"What are you referring to?" Dean countered, looking back down at his maps.

"You becoming Mr. Freeze,” Cas answered, swallowing the chunk of bread. “You always had this side...but it was never this...evident. You used to have a reckless side, too." Cas smirked, dropping his gaze down to the remains of the bread, which he twirled in his hand. "That's one of the things I liked about you…"

"My brother got taken over by satan, Cas. That's what happened," Dean snapped, his head sharply turning up toward the fallen angel. Luckily, the full affects of his last smoke had not quite worn off, and Cas was far from intimidated.

Cas shook his head, took a swig of beer, and said, "No, that just made you driven…and slightly melancholy. When did you turn to stone?"

Dean exhaled, and threw down his pencil. When Cas didn’t even flinch, Dean stared intently upon the cast-out angel. "You wanna know when I became this? When my rock crumbled," he answered harshly. At this, Cas looked away and chugged down some more beer. "Sam was gone, and all I had was you. And as soon as you lost your angelic spark, what did you do? You gave up! You left me! You may as well have been possessed by Lucifer, too!" Dean spat.

Cas slammed his beer glass so hard on the table, it smashed under his fist. He stared at Dean with a look of such severity, he looked just like the old Cas. The familiar look forced Dean’s eyes downward where they settle on the angel’s fist. Cas’s hand had been sliced by the glass, and was now gushing blood onto the splintering wood of the table. "Shit, Cas," he whispered, ripping a piece of cloth from his t-shirt. Cas's gaze loosened and he looked at his hand, blood dripping from the gash on the side of his hand. He had that innocent, old Cas look across his face, which drained any anger Dean had been feeling. God, how Dean missed the old Cas.

Sighing, Cas placed a hand under the wound, catching any blood from further staining the table. Instead of wiping the table, like he had expected, Dean reached for his hand and began wrapping the cloth around Cas’s wound. After he had tied the knot to hold it in place, Dean went to pull his hand away. Tightly, Cas gripped his fingers. Both their hands fell to the table, fingers intertwined. Gently, Cas stroked the top of Dean’s hand with his thumb. Dean exhaled, his eyes tired.

Neither of them said anything. After several minutes of silence, Cas whispered, still staring at their hands, "I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry for not being there for you when you needed me most. I'm sorry for not carrying out my duty, for not looking out for you." Cas closed his eyes. Dean wasn’t sure if he should apologize in return or accept Cas’s. Instead, he said nothing. Cas chuckled humorlessly. "Look what we've become. A statue and a junkie."

Dean smirked. "Five years ago, if you'd have asked me which one would’ve been which, I'd never have guess you'd be the junkie."

Instead of a forced chuckle like before, Cas's face fell further.

More silence. "Do you know what I do every morning, Dean? Before getting ready, or even before smoking my first joint?" Cas nearly whispered.

Dean didn't answer, but looked into Cas's eyes. They seemed grayer than they had been. Cas met his gaze. "I pray."

"For what?"

Cas furrowed his brow, like he always did when he thought. "Sometimes that we'll finally kill Lucifer. Sometimes that Sam will overcome him in there. Other times, if I'm really hung-over, for my powers back. But most times, I pray for you."


End file.
